KDBookOnline
Share Us
The children laughed. All in all, they were doing splendidly. If they could avoid calling each other by the wrong name and referring to the orphanage or the agreement, they all might actually succeed. It was odd, because originally Emmie had thought fooling her grandfather and her family would be a simple matter. After two days with the Fletcher children she’d nearly lost hope, and now it all seemed possible again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Hannah Redcliffe tied off the last stitch in the hem of Rose’s yellow gown and bundled it over her arm. Generally, she assumed that one let out the seams of a young girl’s dresses as she grew, but with Rose her hems seemed to be coming out every other day.
Leaving the kitchen and her basket of work behind, she headed upstairs to return the dress to the youngster’s wardrobe. Rose’s door was closed, and she pushed down on the latch and nudged it open. The room looked as it always did, except for one vital difference—Powell, up to his elbows in the girl’s blanket chest. “Powell!”
Yelping, the butler shot to his feet and whipped around to face her, one hand over his chest. The other held a trio of spoons. “Good heavens, Hannah, you frightened the wits out of me.”
“What are you doing? The Pershings gave their word that no one would look through the children’s things.” Earning their trust had been difficult enough. If they even had a suspicion that someone was digging through their belongings, there was no telling what might happen.
“I’m not touching the children’s things,” he stated, cradling the spoons against his chest. “I’m recovering items belonging to the household.”
“Th—”
“Haven’t you noticed?” he pressed. “Candlesticks going missing? Silverware gone from the table at the end of dinner? Earbobs and necklaces and cuff links gone from Mr. and Mrs. Pershing’s rooms?”
“I… Well, I noticed the jewelry, but nothing since the other Fletcher boy left. And while I’ve mislaid buttons and such on occasion, I’ve always found them again.”
He shook his head. “You didn’t mislay them, Hannah. They were taken, and I returned them to their rightful place.”
“But they’re just children.” Even as she spoke, though, she had to acknowledge that Powell’s statement did explain a few things that she’d found rather odd. She’d thought her mind had gone soft here and there, when something went missing from where she knew she’d put it.
“They are miniature varlets. It’s taken all of my wits to keep the Pershings from discovering the thefts and tossing the little rogues out on their ears just as they did the brother. Even now there are items I know they’ve absconded with that I still can’t locate. We’ve been searching every dark corner and deep drawer in the house for days. On occasion we root out something, but we haven’t discovered their main hoard.”
“‘We’?” she repeated.
“The rest of the staff and myself. We thought you might feel obligated to inform the Pershings, so we’ve attempted to keep you out of it. You and Billet, who seems to find these miscreants amusing.”
So Tom Billet didn’t know, either. She liked that. She liked that Powell’s actions had, in a way, turned her and the groom into partners—even if it was partners in ignorance. “But if you had told the Pershings, you might have been rid of George and Rose by now.”
“Yes, well, they’re needed at the moment.”
Hannah looked at the stern-faced butler. “You like them,” she stated, grinning.
“Nonsense,” he mumbled. “I enjoy outsmarting them.”
“Perhaps so, but if you truly thought them varlets, you would have told our employers they were being robbed by three Fletchers instead of one. But you’ve been keeping it all a secret.”
Powell narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Turning again, he shut the lid of the chest and then reversed course for the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to see these cleaned and polished in time for dinner.”
Still gripping the utensils, he strode out of the room. Well. While she’d had a suspicion that the children might have been secreting away a few choice items, clearly she’d underestimated the scope of the thefts. Hannah returned the dress to the wardrobe and closed the heavy mahogany doors.
During her time employed by Mrs. Pershing, she’d seen the butlers at both houses work miracles, organizing the staff and resources for flawless grand dinners, balls, and charity fetes. Now, however, one of the houses had fallen into complete disarray because of two children under the age of nine.
Chuckling, she left the room and trotted downstairs, through the kitchen, and out to the stable. “Tom?”
“He’s out behind the stable, Hannah,” one of the stable boys informed her as he pitched hay down from the loft.
“Thank you, Johnny.” Passing through the door at the far end of the long building, she found Billet walking Topper, the groom’s attention on the gelding’s feet. She watched for a moment, a bit mesmerized as the man moved around the horse, every step graceful and sure and calm.
“Hannah,” he said, straightening.
Topper snorted, jumping at the sudden movement.
“Damn.” Billet caught the bay’s bridle with one hand, patting him on the neck with the other. “Easy, lad. It’s just a pretty girl.”
Her cheeks warmed. “Is Topper well?”